I'm sorry about the wait. College is hectic, I'm having too much fun at night with my new friends, there is so much reading to do for classes, I left half my story at home on my home pc and had to wait for the weekend to get it, and then of course good old fashioned writer's block. So sorry.
Okay, I really do not know about this chapter. See, I had it almost all written…and I liked the way it flowed and stuff. …but then I was reading it and I thought something was a bit… strong about it. So, even though I liked my original chapter I had a very important decision to make. 2 major events have to happen in order for this story to really get going, and they both happened in the original chapter…and although I liked the way I'd written it, I thought it was a bit much too soon. I wasn't sure if it would be better the way I had it or if I were to split up the events. And it took me a very long time to decide, and I'm still not sure about my decision…but in the end strengthening a relationship won over adding drama.
I do not own RENT or any of the characters or situations therein. I do, however, own Reye, Lactose, and Marshall. Steal them and be faced with my powerful wrath! (I'll chase you with a virtual hammer…)
Marshall
Mark picked up his camera automatically before remembering that he was going to a party, where he would be expected to interact with people. He still wanted to take it, but Reye had insisted he leave it at home.
"Fine, you win." He muttered to himself since Reye wasn't actually present. He put the camera down and headed towards the door. Roger was sitting on the couch, reading a new book. The filmmaker almost turned to say goodbye, almost stopped to tell him where he was going, but stopped himself. Don't be foolish. He doesn't care. Buttoning up the few buttons he had on his coat he walked out without a word and shut the door quietly behind him. Wouldn't want to disturb his reading…
He rode down to the café, glad it was not very cold out that night. Reye was waiting for him outside.
"About time." She teased.
"Yeah, sorry. I didn't know what to wear…and didn't have much to choose from…this isn't like a teenager party, right?"
She laughed. "What makes you think that?"
"Well…you are a teenager…and I'm just kind of worried that-"
"Who says I'm a teenager? And excuse me, Mr. Cohen, but you're not that old." She interrupted.
"I'm twenty-five, thank you. Twenty-six in October. And how old are you, Miss Reye?"
"Younger than you and one year older in May. …So twenty-five, huh? Awesome, Marshall is just twenty-seven and-"
"Reye!"
She laughed. "Sorry. Come on, let's go." Mark quickly chained his bike to a light post and followed Reye down the street. Walking a few blocks they came into a large, slightly decomposing apartment building.
"Its seven floors up and we have to leg it, sorry… The elevator works…sometimes. I'd rather not risk it." She explained as they started up the stairs.
Mark shrugged, he didn't mind. He was used to stairs, maybe not this many but he wasn't lugging a bike so that made up the difference. After reaching the floor they went to the door at the end of the hall. There were only three doors on this floor, foretelling a pretty decent sized apartment.
Mark could hear the music from without the closed door, and was blasted by it as they entered. He failed in his attempt not to flinch.
They came into a decent sized room. It was plain and under furnished, holding only a single couch that was loaded past capacity and several overturned milk crates and cardboard boxes that served for tables, chairs, footstools and anything else they could think of. About fifty people were milling around, carrying bottles of beer and alcohol, talking and laughing, and dancing to the loud music with the bass on too high. Some of them were high, some of them were drunk, and some of them were different variations of both. Only a few were sober, or close to it.
Mark was relieved to see that he wasn't the oldest person there. Some people looked as old as thirty-five while others hardly looked sixteen. The majority, though, were twenty-somethings, like Mark.
Mark looked up as a young man came towards him and Reye. He wore a wide grin and Reye immediately greeted him.
So I guess that must be Marshall. Mark thought, looking the man up and down. Marshall was almost four inches taller than Mark, with rich cinnamon toned skin and thick black hair that curled slightly at the nape of his neck and hung in shaggy curls around his face. He was a bit slim but not skinny, with a seemingly natural, very slight build. He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans that slipped down one hip slightly and a white tee shirt under a pale blue unbuttoned button up that was ripped at the bottom.
Mark glanced between him and Reye. It was true, despite them not being blood they did look a lot alike, definitely enough to be thought of as brother and sister. Mark took in Marshall's features again. Shit, Reye wasn't lying, he is goodlooking...very goodlooking...
Reye's voice broke through his observations. "Marshall, this is Mark, the one I told you about. Mark, this is my brother, Marshall." She introduced them. Marshall stuck out his hand and turned his gaze on Mark. The filmmaker looked up, catching Marshall's eyes for the first time and his breath caught in his throat. Marshall had the most amazing eyes Mark had ever seen. They were a strange blend of deep yellow-green and tan, bordering on gold. They're beautiful.
Marshall stood there for a few moments before turning to Reye. "Is he okay?" he asked.
Reye laughed, waving a hand in front of Mark's face. "Oh I'm thinking he's more than fine."
Mark realized he hadn't moved and snapped back to reality, swatting Reye's hand away. "Sorry." He murmured, his cheeks coloring slightly as he shook Marshall's hand.
The young Hispanic smiled warmly, "Its okay, I was just afraid you found me so hideous you were shocked into a stupor."
"Oh no, I don't think you're hideous…quite the opposite actually you're really---I mean…no, you're not hideous." Mark stammered nervously, his face reddening more.
Marshall chuckled, pressing Mark's hand gently, and leaning towards the filmmaker slightly. "Good to know." he said quietly.
Mark smiled nervously, and looked down as he realized that they were still holding hands. Marshall followed his eyes and with another smile gave his hand a final squeeze before letting go and pulling back.
Reye watched this all with a grin before putting an arm around each of their shoulders. "Come on boys, the party's waiting." She said, leading them farther into the noise. "Oh look, opportunity knocks!" Reye exclaimed, pointing to the couch as the current occupants stood and started to leave. "We'll never get another chance to sit, so we'd best move now." she explained as she quickly led the way there.
Mark sat between Reye and the couch. Marshall sat beside Reye. A longhaired male and the muscular girl attached to his mouth sat next to Marshall. Mark found himself very close to Reye. After a minute, a kid came up to the barista.
"Hello Beautiful, want to dance?" Reye smirked, looking the boy up and down. He was young, looking about nineteen, with long, dark hair and a cocky smile. He was goodlooking, but a bit grungy.
"Tell you what, you talk to me with respect and we'll see what happens." she responded.
The boy laughed. "Funny, baby, funny. You know you like it. Now how about that dance?"
She laughed. "Well, you're cute, so let's just pray you aren't completely hopeless, sweetheart. One dance, and then we can see if I can't teach you some respect." Taking the boy's hand she stood. Facing them she grinned, "Well, I'll be back in a few…You two should talk, get to know each other." She said suggestively, winking at them.
Mark felt his stomach drop as he watched her go off with the grungy kid. That wench! How could she leave me with him? Stay calm, Cohen, stay calm. Despite his attempts to do so, his heart was racing in his chest and a ball of fire was forming in his stomach. He slowly faced her brother, smiling nervously at him.
He smiled back, shifting closer to Mark. "Reye tells me you make films." He said.
Mark nodded. "Yeah, documentaries. I've written screenplays but it never worked-filming with a script, I mean."
Marshall nodded. "What do you use as subjects?"
Mark searched his face for a moment. He seemed honestly interested. He smiled for real. "Um...just real life. Real issues and things going on here in New York. The last film I made (the only film I made in the past four years actually), was about AIDS and HIV. Before that I was working on a piece on homelessness...I have a bit of an inspiration block right now, I just can't find my new film." He said, before blushing slightly after realizing how much he'd let himself ramble.
"I am sure it will come to you, Mark. Most of the time, people just look too hard while the answer is lying right in front of their face...Oh gosh, that sounded like an insult. I swear I didn't mean it like that!" he sounded scared.
Mark laughed, "Don't worry about it, I didn't get offended. I swear." He reassured him.
Marshall's face softened. "Good, good…I'd love to see the film you made. I've got a friend with AIDS. He's doing alright, but it's scary to think that it would take nothing, just a cold even, to kill him." The light momentarily faded from his eyes and Mark quickly changed the subject, hoping to get it to return.
"So what do you do? Reye never mentioned it, just that you and I would...uh, never-mind." His face turned an amazing shade of red.
Marshall laughed, and Mark found his insides warming at the sound. Such a nice laugh.
"Just that you and I would make a great couple." He finished for him, with a grin. "Yeah, she was always telling me that, too. Reye loves to play matchmaker. It can get a bit annoying...but every once in a while she turns out to have terrific judgment." Marshall met his eyes and smiled and Mark blushed again, looking away nervously. Marshall grinned at him again, almost a smirk. "But changing the subject...Me, I'm a photographer. Old fashioned 35 mm camera, black and white stills, mostly. Sometimes I'll work in color, but the chemicals are much more expensive...and black and white photos just have a different quality to them."
Mark stared at him. "Really? That's neat. Really neat. I used to do some still photography, back in high school. I completely understand you on the black and white thing... Wait, did you do those photos in the cafe?"
"Yes."
"Seriously? All of them? Those were amazing!" He complimented, his voice filled with awe.
A new, warm light flooded Marshall's eyes, and a warm smile covered his face. Sliding closer to Mark he started talking, his passion spilling into his voice. Mark felt himself brightened by it, and soon became engrossed in the conversation, the fire in his stomach extinguishing as he became at ease with the photographer. He was glad he still remembered so much about photography, although after a while the conversation shifted to his work.
It was amazing how good of a listener Marshall was. He had never met anyone else so interested in his filming, not since college. Sure his friends would listen to new ideas, but after he got started and started going on about his shots, angles and technical details, they would very obviously get bored. Marshall seemed to be very interested in all of it. He figured it was probably because they were in similar fields. Almost two hours passed without Mark noticing. Finally, at a break in the conversation Marshall looked around.
"I guess that kid wasn't hopeless after all." He said, noting Reye's prolonged absence. "I'm going to go get a beer. Do you want one?" he asked, standing.
"Sure. I'll go with you." Mark stood as well and followed him into another room, the kitchen. The kitchen was well lit, making Mark realize just how dim the other rooms were. Five guys were sitting around the table, playing poker. A young girl was sitting on a milk crate near them, sucking on a joint and watching the game with little interest. A few people were just standing around, having various conversations, but for the most part it was a lot quieter in this room. Marshall went over to the sink that was filled with ice water and various beers. He grabbed a couple cans, handing one to Mark.
"Thanks." Mark said, taking a drink. He looked around, relaxing under the light. "I like it in here. Quiet."
Marshall nodded. "Yeah…Hey, if the noise is bothering you we can go get some air. Take a walk." He offered.
Mark frowned. "What about Reye?"
The photography smiled fondly. "She won't miss us. She tends to get a bit…distracted at these parties."
"Yeah, but is it okay to leave her alone here? What if something happens?"
"Nah, nothing will. We know almost everyone here, mostly good friends of ours. It's a good crowd." He reassured him. "Come on." With that, Marshall took Mark's hand and gently led him outside.
Once at the stairs Mark realized that he was still holding the other man's hand and hastily let go, pink rushing into his cheeks and his heart speeding up a step. Marshall looked over at him and chuckled, obviously amused. They went down a bit quickly, and Mark was sorely reminded that he'd have to walk back up those steps when they came back. Leaving the building they started walking, enjoying the night, which was rarely warm for late February, and talking at length about various things. After a while Marshall asked a man for the time, and frowned when he was told.
"Wow, it got late rather quickly. Maybe we should head back now, the scavengers will be out, for sure…not that I have anything to take. But…"
Mark shrugged. "I've nothing of worth to take either, but I should be getting home, I suppose." He had no reason to go, but didn't want to go up and down those stairs.
"I'll walk you." Marshall offered.
"No, its fine. I don't want you to trouble." Mark argued.
The Latino grinned widely. "No trouble at all, it would be my pleasure. Honestly."
Mark was glad for the darkness for he thought he was blushing slightly. "You're going to get sick of me soon and regret this." He warned, only slightly joking.
The grin stayed in place. "I seriously doubt that. In fact, right now I'm just trying to figure out a way to spend even more time with you."
Now Mark was sure he was red, but a smile was covering his face.
"Now vamonos, which way is your place?"
Mark led them there, finding that his feet were going at a strangely slow pace, making the walk take longer than necessary. On the way, the conversation was pleasant and relaxed. Nothing felt forced with Marshall, he felt able to be himself and didn't stress about what he should or shouldn't say. It was nice, to say the least.
Mark stopped them a block away from his building, insisting he could make it the rest of the way by himself, but rather unsure about why he wasn't willing to let Marshall see where he lived.
They stood a little awkwardly in front of each other.
"So um, I'll see you around, I guess…" Mark said slowly.
"Yeah…yeah…" he answered, sounding distracted. Mark started to walk away, when Marshall stopped him. "Hey Mark?"
He turned around. "Yeah?" He stared at the photographer expectantly, and felt himself smile as the other man fidgeted almost nervously. How cute!…oh shit, where did that come from?
"Can I have your number…so I could call you?"
"Yeah sure." Mark answered, and soon found himself rambling out his digits before he realized what he was doing. Shit! I can't give him my number, what if Roger's home? What if he answers?
"No wait, nevermind. You can't call me!" he exclaimed. Then guilt poured through him when he saw Marshall's face fall. "No…you can call me, its alright…I mean…don't…shit." He stuttered, a streak of heat running up his back in embarrassment. The heat was dimmed, however, when he heard Marshall laughing.
When he stopped, he looked at Mark for a few moments before asking, "Just tell me this, would you ever go out with me?"
"Yes." I would?
Marshall's grin grew. "Great…I won't call you, promise…but how about I give Reye messages to give you at the café? And you can send back responses…like a secret spy sort of operation."
Mark laughed. "Okay, that'd be…great."
"Good. Well…good bye then."
The filmmaker grinned. "Bye." With that he turned and hurried home, fighting the unbelievably strong urge to turn around, even when he'd remembered that he'd forgotten his bike at the cafe.
LINELINELINELINELINELINELINE
Mark walked into the loft and nearly jumped at the site of Roger sitting on the table, strumming his guitar.
What the hell is he doing up at 3 a.m.?
He thought about asking him, but decided against it, as the musician ignored his existence and continued to idly play. Mark decided not to acknowledge him either, walking past and closing his room door behind him.
Lying back on his bed, the actions of the day suddenly came rushing back at him.
Oh shit, oh shit! I told him I'd go out with him. What the hell was I thinking? Why did I do it?… Although the voice in his head was panicking, a smile settled on his lips. For whatever reason he didn't really regret it. He was…glad he'd agreed. Because I would, I guess. Yeah…I'm not gay though…But damn, he had fucking beautiful eyes…
He let the night play over and over in his mind, smiling over comments Marshall had made, compliments he'd given, and agonizing over things he, himself, had said, going over things he should have said instead, finding better comebacks and jokes that he wished he'd said. But all in all, it left him with a better feeling than most first meetings did.
The only thing he couldn't figure out was why he'd freaked out about the phone number thing. Why did I care so much if he called me? …Oh god…it was Roger…I was worried about Roger answering…but why? Because I'm-but I'm not gay! …And even if I was, Roger wouldn't care…so why do I? …That can't be it, it was something else… Roger wouldn't care…
So why did I care?
LINELINELINELINELINE
That's it for now. Because I completely revised this chapter, I'm taking the story into a slight detour from my original plan…so I don't really know where I'm taking this right now. It has the same planned outcome, but now there's like 3 unplanned chapters that I have to figure-in in order for this to work…so I'm not sure when the next chapter is going to be out. That, and I completely bombed a pop quiz in my computer science class this morning, because I haven't been concentrating on school as much as I should be, so I am going to be spending more time on my classes for a while.
…But reviews are still my biggest motivator, so the more I get the more likely I will make time to write for this and the faster I'll have an update. Also, I have low self esteem, I need reassurance that more than 2 people are reading this fic. Keep in mind that I accept flames and love constructive criticisms. Especially about characterization, as that is most key to me.
Much Love.
